Wearing a corduroy jacket, Ted emerged from the back and jogged to the front of the store. “Ready?” he asked and held out his arm.
Lilliana took his arm, and together they headed out. Ted paused at the door to switch the sign from Open to Will Be Back At and pushed the hands of the cardboard clock until they registered 1:00 P.M. After closing and locking the door, he extended his arm to Lilliana once more and they proceeded down Main Street.
Lilliana was glad the street was empty. She didn’t want to be seen going to lunch with Ted Pulaski. Not that she was embarrassed about it. Well, maybe a little. Her real fear was the teasing she’d get if any of the retirement home residents saw them together. Comfortable in their second childhood, many of the people she knew would gleefully tease her about having a boyfriend, just like in grade school. She was having enough trouble holding onto her dignity as it was.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she said to fill the silence around them.
“Yes, it is,” Ted agreed. “And a lovely lady to spend it with.”
Lilliana felt herself blushing. The situation was getting out of control. Fortunately, it didn’t take them too long to walk to the intersection of Main and Pulaski, where Cathy’s Café was situated. For the first time, Lilliana noticed the name of the street. “Why, this is Pulaski Street.”
“Yes, it is.” Ted was grinning. When she didn’t respond, he added, “It used to be called Pulaski Way on the other side of Main Street, too, before I sold the ranch to Russell Ellison.”
“You mean you used to own that land?” Lilliana was trying to adjust to the idea of the man beside her having been the owner of such a huge property. The man whom she had thought of as the modest town grocer was probably very rich.
“Yes, I did.” Ted opened the door to the restaurant and held it while Lilliana entered. “I’ll tell you about it after we get a table.”
Cathy sat them at a table near the front window. They could see traffic going by and the road that used to be Pulaski Way leading into the retirement community across the street. Lilliana picked up the menu and pretended to examine its contents while she got used to the idea of Ted Pulaski not being just this pleasant elderly man who owned a grocery store. When she peeked out from behind the menu, Ted hadn’t picked his up. He was looking at her instead.
Quickly, she looked back at her choices and decided on a tuna salad sandwich. She put the menu down and folded her hands. “Aren’t you going to look at the menu?” she asked.
“Don’t have to,” Ted said. “I come here just about every day, if not for lunch, then for dinner. I know the menu by heart. The specials, too. Would you like to know what today’s specials are?”
“It’s not necessary. I know what I want.”
“In that case, let’s order.” A waitress leaned against the counter, chatting with a customer. When she saw Ted wave, she hurried over.
“What can I get you today, Mr. Pulaski?” the waitress asked.
“Ladies first. Lilliana?”
“I’ll have the tuna salad sandwich. On whole wheat, if you have it,” Lilliana said. “And tea. Iced tea.”
The waitress turned to Ted, pad and pencil ready.
“I’ll have the meat loaf special,” Ted said.
“Thank you.” The waitress gathered up the menus and headed for the kitchen.
Ted took a sip from his water glass.
“Tell me about the ranch,” Lilliana said.
“It’s a long story,” Ted said.
“That’s fine with me. I don’t have anything else to do today.” Then, realizing he did, she added, “Why don’t you give me the Reader’s Digest version?”
“Do they still publish that?” Ted asked.
“I think so,” Lilliana said. “I seem to remember seeing a copy in my dentist’s office the last time I went.”
“I remember my mother had a whole shelf full of those condensed books,” Ted said. ”She couldn’t wait for a new one to arrive.” He stared off into the distance for a moment. “But you wanted to hear about the ranch.”
Lilliana nodded.
“My grandfather came out to Arizona in the eighteen-seventies,” Ted began. “After the Civil War, the South was pretty tore up. He wanted a new start for his family, something to wipe away all the bad memories.”
“What made him choose Arizona?” Lilliana asked.
“I thought you wanted the Reader’s Digest version?” Ted’s eyes twinkled.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Go ahead and tell it your way. I’ll try to save my questions for another time.”
“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” Ted said. He lifted his hand as if he were about to place it on hers, then put it back down on the table. “He was out here during the war. He took part in the Battle of Picacho Peak. It wasn’t much of a battle, but it got him out here, and he liked the desert climate and the mountains. His idea was to raise cattle and be free of the cities.”
Ted paused for another drink of water. The waitress came back with their luncheons. Not only was the sandwich huge, it came with a pile of potato chips and a pickle on the side. Looking at Ted’s plate, Lilliana was glad she hadn’t ordered the meatloaf. There were three slices, a hill of mashed potatoes, and a serving of peas and carrots that would have made a meal in itself. Lilliana picked up a half sandwich and took a delicate bite. Ted broke off a chunk of meatloaf and put it in his mouth. While he chewed, Lilliana took a packet of sugar from the container on the table, tore it open, and stirred it into her tea.
Ted swallowed the meatloaf. “This is going to take longer than I thought if I’m going to eat at the same time. Anyway, my grandfather, Stan—short for Stanislaw—Pulaski, once he made sure his wife and children would be okay on their own for a few months, came back to Arizona to look for ranch land. He got off the train in Tucson and asked around for where he should go. Folks advised him to stay away from Tombstone, which was a pretty rough town in those days. Somehow he heard about the land out here.”
Another pause for meatloaf, this time with a topping of mashed potatoes and gravy. Lilliana had eaten most of the first half of her sandwich. She picked up a potato chip and popped it in her mouth. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have just one.
The waitress, carrying a pitcher of ice water, stopped at their table. “How is everything?” she asked as she refilled Ted’s glass.
Since Ted was chewing, Lilliana replied. “Everything is very good.”
“Anything else I can get you folks?”
Ted answered that one. “I think we’re all set.”
The waitress went back to the counter and her conversation with the other customer.
Ted continued his story. “Stan rode out on horseback to check the place out. It was monsoon season, and he ran into some pretty rough weather, but as soon as he hit the spot where that gazebo is now, the sun broke through the clouds, and a rainbow arced across the sky. He figured the rainbow was a sign. Bought the place as soon as he got back to Tucson and sent for Grandma Wanda and the kids. By the time they arrived, he’d built a little house near the creek up there.”
“Creek?” Lilliana couldn’t remember seeing a creek.
“Well, it’s kind of a trickle now. It used to run a lot stronger back then,” Ted said with a smile. “But it’s fresh water. If you walk into the hills behind the casitas, you’ll run into a little pond if there’s been rain. Kind of a mud flat if there hasn’t.”
Lilliana was thinking she’d have to take a hike up that way. Like most desert rats, she was drawn to open water like a kitten to a toy with feathers. Even if the creek was just a trickle, it would be pretty to look at.
Lilliana had finished the first half of her sandwich and, to her amazement, most of the pile of potato chips. So much for “just one.” She waved at the waitress.
“Can I have a to-go box?” Lilliana asked once the waitress reached their table.
Ted, who had taken the opportunity of the pause in their conversation to consume more of his lunch, raised his eyeb
rows. “Is that all you’re gonna eat?”
“It’s a big sandwich,” Lilliana said. “Half is more than enough for me. I’ll have the rest for lunch tomorrow.”
The waitress returned quickly with the Styrofoam container, and Lilliana, before she could change her mind, put the remaining half of her sandwich inside and closed the lid. “So,” she said, hoping to get Ted’s mind off her lack of appetite and back on the history of the ranch, “did your grandfather raise cattle?”
“He sure did. Ran a pretty good herd on the open range here. My father helped out almost as soon as he could walk. Sisters, too. When grandpa passed, my dad took over running the ranch. Sent me off to school at the U of A, hoping I’d find something I liked to do that paid better than ranching. It didn’t work.” Ted grinned. “Guess ranching was in my bones.”
“How did you become a shopkeeper?” Lilliana asked.
The grin disappeared from Ted’s face, replaced by a quivering, sad smile.
“Two things. One was the creek turned into a trickle. Even desert cattle need water. I had to use CAP water to keep them alive.”
It took Lilliana a few seconds to translate CAP to Central Arizona Project rather than something you wear on your head.
“The second was I got old.”
“It happens to all of us,” Lilliana said.
Ted nodded. “That it does. Ranching’s a young man’s game. My joints didn’t take kindly to being in the saddle chasing cattle all day any more. My kids didn’t inherit the ranching gene. They’re off in Tucson and Phoenix working in offices. When Martha passed, the ranch house seemed much too big for one person.”
And too full of memories, Lilliana wagered. Sometimes the memories were a comfort. Other times you had to leave them behind.
Ted straightened in his seat. “Anyway, when Russell Ellison came along and asked if I’d be interested in selling, I told him I might be, if the price was right. It was.”
“But why didn’t you just buy a house in town?” Lilliana asked. “Surely you don’t need the income from the grocery.”
“I’ve worked all my life. I tried sitting around. Watched too many game shows and reruns of Bonanza. I found out retirement is not for me, so I started looking around for some kind of business I could start. It dawned on me that people had to drive thirty miles when they ran out of milk. They’ll still do that for their weekly shopping, but for the little things in between—I fill a need.” Ted grinned again. “And I found out all you city slickers at the retirement home like to treat yourselves with things they don’t serve in the dining room. It didn’t take much to add those specialty items.”
“You have no plans to retire?” Lilliana asked.
“None at all. I hope they find me laying on the floor of the store someday. I want to be stocking shelves right up to the very end.”
Lilliana envied Ted Pulaski. She knew what he meant about feeling useful, having something to do every day that mattered. If it hadn’t been for Charles’s stroke, she’d still be a reference librarian, helping people learn about Shakespeare or history or astronomy or even African violets. But circumstances had dictated otherwise, and she’d retired long before she was ready. She sighed.
“Something wrong?” asked Ted.
“No, not really.” But in her heart she wished her life had more purpose.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LILLIANA walked up the lane leading to the retirement home at a pace significantly slower than usual. She’d been reluctant to leave the homey café and the pleasant conversation, but Ted had a store to run, and after an hour and a half, they’d reluctantly acknowledged it was time to leave. She felt that soft glow that comes from connecting to another person in a meaningful way. For the first time in over a year, she didn’t feel alone in the world.
She’d have to go into town more often. Following the same routine, while comfortable, too easily became a limiting rut. Deeper than a rut. A trench. Maybe she should make an appointment at the hairdresser, change her hairstyle. Or stop by the knitting store and see if they carried embroidery floss or crewel patterns. She’d done quite a lot of embroidery before moving to Rainbow Ranch. A little outing every once in a while would be good for her. One that didn’t involve seeing the chief of police.
It didn’t take her long to reach the building. As she opened the door and stepped inside, the stuffiness of the air tried to smother her, and she realized she wanted to be outside where the gentle breeze could caress her face. A little nippy for swimming, but she could take a book out by the pool and read until dinner.
After putting the Styrofoam box containing the remains of her sandwich in the fridge, she picked up the book of Shakespeare sonnets she was reading and headed for the pool. As the warmth of a burgeoning spring washed over her, Lilliana didn’t need the book to quote the sonnet that sang in her head.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
(Or, in the case of Arizona, March, Lilliana amended)
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
She was not the only one who had decided to enjoy the warm weather. Gathered around the pool were a dozen senior citizens. Several of her acquaintances had arranged their lounge chairs in a circle so they could talk.
“Mind if I join you?” Lilliana asked.
“Lily! Of course not.” Lenny hopped up out of his seat and went to fetch another lounge chair. Frank moved his chair a little closer to Wayne, leaving room beside Mary for Lenny to put the additional chaise longue.
Before Lilliana totally settled in her chair Nancy asked, “Any news on the murder investigation?”
Five heads leaned in her direction. Wayne cupped his hand around his ear, the better to hear her response. Lilliana sighed. Of course they’d been discussing the murder. People’s natural inclination was to be obsessed with the latest crisis or disaster—until they’d exhausted the topic fifty times over, or another train wreck occurred to take their attention off the first one. Personally, she’d enjoyed forgetting the unfortunate demise of Bette Tesselink over lunch with Ted. “No.”
“Didn’t you go into town to give your statement to the chief today?” Frank asked.
Lilliana nodded.
“Didn’t he say anything?” Wayne asked.
“No.”
“Come on, Lily, didn’t you ask him about the investigation? Does he have any suspects?”
They really weren’t going to let go of it, despite her one word answers. She might as well share her thoughts with them. Maybe one of her friends would come up with an idea. “To be honest,” Lilliana said, “I don’t think young Chief Cartwright knows what he’s doing. I think this situation is beyond him.”
Frank nodded sagely. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Why not?” Lilliana asked.
“The only reason he got the job is because he’s Dale Ackerman’s nephew,” Frank said.
“I found that out today,” Lilliana said. “But certainly he has some training?”
“Not much,” Frank said. “I heard he was on the Tucson police force for three years, but I don’t think he ever worked a homicide.”
Lilliana recoiled at the sound of a piercing scream.
“EEE-YOW-OW!”.
Mary, the one who’d shrieked so loudly, stared past Lilliana at a spot on the other side of the pool, her eyes wide with fear. Lilliana turned and looked over her shoulder. A large black dog trotted toward them, tongue hanging out. It didn’t look particularly menacing, but it certainly was big.
A black man sitting on the opposite side of the pool rose painfully from his chair with the help of a thick walking stick. He must have been six feet four or more and weigh over three hundred pounds. Maybe over four hundred. He took a few labored steps toward the dog and raised the walking stick over his head.
“Get!” he said in a loud, deep voice. “Go on! Get out of here!”
; The dog stopped his progress toward the pool and looked at the man, evaluating the threat. The man shook his stick.
“I said GET!”
The dog cowered, turned, and ran back into the desert. Lilliana would have done the same thing. It wasn’t only the size of the man. He projected a sense of presence, and man and beast alike would know not to mess with him.
“Say,” Lenny said once the threat disappeared, “I have an idea.”
Everyone turned their attention back to the conversation.
“What’s that?” Lilliana asked.
“You should talk to Willie O’Mara. He was with TPD for thirty years. I’m pretty sure part of that time he was a detective. I’m sure he can give our young police chief some pointers.”
“Who’s Willie O’Mara?” Lilliana asked, puzzled.
“Him.” Lenny pointed at the black man who’d shooed away the dog.
Lilliana turned and peered at the man again. He didn’t look Irish.
“Excuse me,” Lilliana said.
O’Mara, who had resumed reading his magazine, a science fiction one from the picture on the lurid cover, turned his head in Lilliana’s direction. “How can I help you?”
“Would you mind if I asked you something?”
“Well, as long as it isn’t anything terribly personal. I’m not going to tell you my cholesterol or blood sugar levels from my last physical.”
What would make him think... oh. The smile on his face told Lilliana he’d been joking. She smiled weakly.
“Pull up a chair. I’d do it for you, but“—he gestured toward the walking stick lying across the bottom of the chaise.
Lilliana didn’t physically have to pull up a chair. There was an empty one right next to him. Willie O’Mara had an odd sense of humor.
Once seated, she began. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool intruded on the sudden silence. The group she’d just left gawked in her direction, eager for her to come back and tell them what happened. Which, so far, was nothing. And, judging by O’Mara’s silence, would continue to be nothing unless she spoke up. “Lenny Rothenberg tells me you used to be a police officer.”
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